


Together, we can take over the world

by tothemovies (jarofactonbell)



Category: Naruto
Genre: Gen, M/M, can i get a #fuckdanzolives, do not ask me to make nicknames, in this universe itachi learnt the power of saying no, mikoto's clan rise, some of you don't know who naori is and it shows, someone hire me to write a soap opera please, tag yourself i'm kushina, they're the Classic Asian family fight me look at everyone being accomplished and shit, uchiha clan - or as i call them - overachievers with doctors and lawyers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-05
Updated: 2019-01-05
Packaged: 2019-10-03 13:01:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17284544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jarofactonbell/pseuds/tothemovies
Summary: "Itachi," Mikoto flips a page, "leave Shisui to me."Itachi doesn't move or respond to his mother's words."Itachi," Izumi sips her tea, "go deal with your father.""Itachi," Naka squats by his right, "you're a dumbass, with a spine of glass.""Itachi," Naori punches him aside, "take that as an 'I love you' despite your shortcomings.""Itachi nii-san," Sasuke chimes in, "we're your clan. We would love you, no matter what.""And Shisui would too, river throwing incident or not," Izumi gently reminds him.





	Together, we can take over the world

**Author's Note:**

> This was 12k of an extended mistake one word after another but enjoy some Uchiha shitstorm because I love shiita and the Uchiha clan and their shenanigans
> 
> If there are typos keep in mind that I posted this on a phone that doesn't believe in autocorrect or syntax
> 
> Sometimes you just gotta start your 2019 right by writing about Uchiha clan drama and healthy coping techniques along with badass women who you want to adopt you along with Tobirama cameo

Shisui barely got enough time to step off the airport terminal where a screech of Sushi baby and a blur of black hoodie along with Dior perfume slam onto him.

Jesus. Jesus _oof._

He braced himself for the likes of Naori clubbing him over the head when he’s back in Fire Country with her sports bag and Naka dunking him in one of the compound’s ponds, but this nouveau riche boy scent is neither appreciated or anticipated.

Uchiha Obito relinquishes his barnacle grip on Shisui and grins all over and up at him - there’s a 7 cm difference between them, with Shisui being taller, but he feels small nonetheless, a baby seven-year-old in the presence of his much older mentor, who he looked up too. Even though it’s the reverse now, Obito is big with his aura and all that voice and Shisui is tossed this way and that until his tormentor is picked apart by someone who was probably sick of the two of them clogging the exit door.

“Oi,” Obito complains, like he has a right to be a public nuisance. “Don't do that.”

“Maa, dear, you were getting in the way of other people,” a familiar voice drawls in return and Shisui skids aside to very very minutely gape at who also came along to pick him up.

Lazy dark eyes blink behind a perpetual mask, one grey, one black red. Shisui doesn’t need to look hard - or to have eyes - to know that another twin black red eye sits in Obito’s functioning eye socket.

“Hello. Hatake-san,” he greets with a slight buzz of confusion in his voice.

“Shisui,” Hatake Kakashi cheerily returns. “Glad to see you after all that time. How are you?”

 _Too_ cheerily.  

He slants a look to Obito, an Uchiha. Not sharing the same blood ties or not, all of them bearing the name Uchiha inherits a hereditary streak of cunningness whenever they do something, no matter how dumb they act. That very last part is added as an afterthought for Obito and him, who are dumbasses with the passed down Uchiha genes of being absolute manipulative assholes who pull the rug from under people’s feet.

This entire set up smells like some major rug pulling is about to be ripped from under his feet. He’s bracing his feet and screaming in confusion inside his head. Goddesses alive, he needs an anger translator. Or a Sasuke. Either one will do.

“I’ve been well.” He returns courteously, because he’s been raised with manners, and Obito loves to give hours long lectures on what is the appropriate way to act in front of elders and Shisui doesn’t have the energy to tell him to shut up and risk an even longer lecture. He exhales, mentally. _Hit him._ “How have you been, Hatake-san?”

“Stellar,” Kakashi beams right back. “Absolutely alright. How good is your road regulations and driving skills after a year away?”

No one in possession of anything Uchiha related ever does anything out of genuine love and affection. No one except maybe like Mikoto, Itachi or Izumi. Obito is a dirty dirty traitor and damn him to all the deep murky ponds at the family compound.

“You came with nii-san,” he says, to Kakashi, because he is Mad right now and then, the honorific viscerally caustic, “to pick me up, only for me to drive the both of you back.”

Itachi told him he can be chilling if desired. He with his gentle paper heart had taken that at exactly no value, peaking at most a negative eight while the two of them were polishing up Mikoto's unnerving collection of kitchen knives freshly imported from Thailand through rather dubious channels.

Looking back at it now, maybe Itachi was right, as he's wont to, and now Shisui is dishing out the Uchiha brand of Siberian snow storm level™ of a cold glare at Obito and his  Cyclops boyfriend-but-kinda-not, face entirely unimpressed.

“We have three eyes between the two of us, so it's basically a road hazard to let either one of us drive,” Obito cheerfully swoops down and steals away a duffle bag before Shisui can appropriately and politely tell him to fuck off.

“So how did you get here then,” he asks, without it being a question and resigns his carry on luggage to Kakashi's prying hands.

He doesn't get an answer. Somehow Obito managed a wink with an eyepatch and one eye.

Can Itachi come quickly to save him please, before he commit homicide to his adopted cousin.

(Sasuke only replied with his nasty and teenage-ridden spite ‘k’ to Shisui's brief laments in the group chat. Naori told him to _get over yourself it's a one hour drive you won't die_. Itachi was cursedly and also blessedly out doing whatever errands political diplomats do to avoid international meltdown on a regular basis. Shisui made a note to determinedly hug-tackle him especially when they see each other later on, after he extends the same courtesy to Sasuke, Naka and Obito.)

 

Really. In direct hindsight, maybe he should have noted all the glaringly obvious signs just slamming onto him with the speed of a boat propellers on a race against a particular vindictive shark hellbent on gifting the boat with a newly custom shark-teeth hole.

But he digresses.

The first sign was the entrance.

He barely had time to park the car and Obito had flung himself out through the door, yelling into the void of Mikoto's wide garden path winding up to the compound.

“Babies, papa's home!”

A shoe immediately sails from inside and would have hit him square on the face if Kakashi hasn't removed him from its trajectory.

Well. _Removed_ is a relative term. Kakashi just hip checked him out of the way and he himself fluidly sidesteps the assaulting shoe.

He would have liked to pick Obito up too, partly because it gives him all the kicks to render Obito to a damsel in distress bridal carry and partly because Kakashi is weird and he flirts in convoluted ways and it's best nobody delves deeply into that. Rin sat Shisui down once and very carefully warned him against going down that path to which he had nearly broken his composure and protested to that assumption because _noooo Kakashi is hot but no thank you._

Speaking of Rin -

“Hey!” She emerges, unsurprisingly from the depths of an Uchiha side branch home, previously stringent with strict regulations but nowadays is the equivalent of Konoha's social meeting point. Everyone and anyone can swing by, with no repercussions per Mikoto's enforcing that easy access and Fugaku had garnered no votes of support from his wife's troop of minions. “You got back safely!”

“Sushi drove,” Obito proudly tousles his hair in which he allows two seconds of obligated suffering of sentient curls amassing in collective revolution on top of his head before ~~quelling the rebellion~~ taming the curls back into cute and socially acceptable level of ‘fashionably messy’ hairstyle.

“I know,” she smiles, all Colgate blinding white teeth and a motherly shine to her eyes. “Otherwise I would be seeing you two troublemakers at the ICU.”

“You _let_ them drive around?” He hasn't meant to lose composure like that, the slight disbelief in his tone, but really, why are people trusting the Moronic Two to function as human beings. Have they lost all faith in humanity. Do they not have any ounce of self-respect.

Since Rin is sensible and a functional, contributing member of respectful society, he's just going to give her all the benefits of the doubt and hopes that he's not making a grievous mistake in letting the two notorious idiots in all of Konoha loose on the streets where he could have intervened.

“I know what I'm doing,” she smiles winningly. “If not, I have the necessary first aid skills to patch them back together.”

Shisui is reminded, time and again, that women are scary and wonderful and too hardcore for men to own up to, and the injustices that they face in the world are simply patriarchal constructs designed to diminish their capabilities because of sheer fear.

“Yes, of course,” he bows and gives a short but tight hug to her, who is almost family to him. “How have work been?”

Rin beams and steps away, giving him that polite space to be comfortable in  “Less busy now that we've got new fellows. Sasuke's friends are in the program.”

If Sasuke is here, he would have ventured an entirely baffled and incredulous _Sasuke **has** friends?_ but he isn't, so that would have to wait and be unleashed when he runs into his baby emo teenage lord.

“That's great!” He beams right back, equally enthusiastic. “Did you throw that shoe?”

“I did!” Naori's voice hollers from the beyond. “In quick or I will have to restrict amount of PDA you're allowed to act out in my Uchiha household!”

"It ain't your house yet, brat!" Obito screams.

Another shoe flies. This time it hits the mark. Smack bang in the bloody forehead. It sounded like it hurt.

"In! Now!" Naori orders.

And really, the fact that Naori wasn't there at the driveway and gently suffocating him to a slow and mortifying death really should have ring some alarm bells, but Shisui left his smart and higher brain function doctor's hat back in immigration so he can't be blamed if he isn't noticing things. Like the change in their welcoming routine and the fact that Rin and Obito shiftily glance from him to the house and back at the top of his curls again, like he would catch aflame at any given opportunity, should have been obvious giveaways of _hey so maybe something is off_ , but then again, he's tired. He's gross. He has not showered for a day and a half. He's just a barely functional zombie with high and unnecessary emotional sensitivity.

“How was your trip, Shisui-kun?” Rin walks him along the path to the sitting room, and he hears her, he does, but it all goes through the window the minute he hears the series of taps.

Knock. Pause. Knock. Knock.

Their code for _I'm missing you._ Over and over and over again -

(Knocks in succession of each other. Knocks that give away the fact that the person knocking is aware that he is here, but they do not believe in the hearsay news of his arrival. That unless his physical presence graces that someone and they can feel the bones under his ribs and the creases under his eyes and believe that truly, he is _there_ with them.)

He bows in brief apology to Rin and walks briskly to the tea room, no ceremony to be had on the day of his return, no guest to attend to, no one but -

His feet are grounded at the threshold, stock still.

Itachi, flipping through a textbook thick document. Itachi, tapping mindlessly on the table surface, the code only he and Shisui know since their childhood days. Itachi, hair weighed down by the sheer weight of it all growing out, pooling over his shoulder and back in overlapping inky waterfalls. Itachi. Itachi. He's so close that Shisui can touch him -

Itachi looks up as Shisui's finger reach for his face.

“I'm back,” he can't help the reflex pull of a smile over his own cheeks. It just seems a part of nature, the smiles he manifests just by being near Itachi.

“Hello Shisui,” Itachi smiles back, miniscule, the tightest pinch at the corners of his mouth and a ghost of a crescent, but a smile that is so _him_ it does things to Shisui's guts and lungs. Unhealthy things. Like a heartburn.

Itachi closes his books. Rises. Reaches out a hand also.

Shisui crosses the threshold, stepping two and three and four footfalls forward -

They meet somewhere in the middle, hands cradling each other's cheeks - and Shisui can count the number of heartbeats under Itachi's skin.

His lips taste like green tea and cola lip balm. Itachi whispers all twenty three variations of _I miss you_ unto his mouth, fervently chasing away the loneliness they both share and carry. Apart or together, Shisui can recount each and every iteration as if he had given voice to them and ingrained them into muscle memory.

His returning _I'm home_ is cradled just as gently by Itachi's calloused fingers imprinting bruises on his cheeks and it's as if the hours and months and weeks they spent apart didn't matter as much as the now and he could be sustained by this and only this alone.

Which is when, of course, a loud and obviously distracting cough interrupts them and Itachi doesn't even bother with putting a facade of decorum, hiding his face in Shisui's neck and huffing out a long hot breath.

Shisui absently cups the base of Itachi's skull, pushing aside his curtain of hair and watching as the hair tie falls to oblivion onto the tatami mats.

They’ve evidently gotten more disgusting since last time. Embracing each other after one (1) kiss? Retaining close proximity that sunlight can't get through the two of their respective bodies? The Uchiha's equivalent of full on making out in broad daylight. They may as well be removing their clothes in the next twenty seconds. Shameful. A plague on all the houses. They've broken the rules of decorum, shattered whatever is left in the front of respectful manners in this society. There is no more hope on the world now.

“Are you done,” Naka lifts a brow, clearly not tired from waiting, but because he just wants to be a menace.

“Do the M'Baku version!” Someone ~~_Obito or Naori or a combination of both_~~ screams out.

Naka obliges. Shisui tries hard not to stare in a way that can be translated as judgemental.

Itachi makes a muffled sound of distress on his shirt and detaches himself from Shisui. They have to be in polite society now, Daylight Rules applicable to the space allowed between the two of them.  

“Naka-san,” Shisui bows, his pinkie firmly hooked onto Itachi’s third belt loop from the left.

“Sushi,” Naka returns the greeting easily, no bow drawn out from him. “Come inside so Naori and baa-san can break your spine. They've been dying to wrestle people in hugs but since we all know they lie so we don't indulge in those whims. Come so you too can suffer and be our scapegoat.”

Nothing is out of the usual.

This is the first successful attempt of a semblance of normalcy. Even the way Itachi clutched onto him was uncharacteristically clingy and Shisui had chalked it up to them being apart, but really, something must've rang some bells but seeing as he's a little preoccupied, he's not really paying much attention to anything.

Naka clicks his tongue again, not impatient, but a reminder. Shisui shakes himself from his haze of suspicion and takes a skidding step forward, but his finger is firmly stuck on an unmoving Itachi, whose normally passive face is showing the barest signs of an incoming pout.

“We'll go together, come,” Shisui tugs on the belt loop. “I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere.”

He's reluctant to leave, but the combined force of Naka frowning disapprovingly and Shisui's puppy dog eyes nudge him a little from resolutely planting down roots and taking up treelike sentience in the tea room.

“Come on, dango,” he tugs, insistent.

“Ten seconds or I'm calling in Nao,” Naka intones, bored and tired of spectating from the ledge to the raised up platform flooring.

“I've got your back, I'm literally going to be behind you,” Shisui pleads, because he loves Itachi with all the blood and nerves he has in him, but Naori has a lot of medals and trophies from judo and hapkido and whatever martial arts the fuck she gets into whenever it strikes her fancy. Her headlock kills. It's so deadly there is a website of people who have resigned from judo because Naori put them in a headlock and that had been the finishing straw.

“You'll be right there?” Itachi's bottom lip quivers, only seen by him.

“I'll be right after you,” he solemnly and earnestly swears.

He ignores all judgemental eyebrows from Naka and takes Itachi's finger, his pinkie hooking onto the other's.

(Naori put him in the mildest form possible of an Uchiha Match Point™ headlock and he must've floundered for a good minute ~~and definitely more~~ until Mikoto intervened.)

 

He is not suspicious, _okay,_ but when he's separated from Itachi with the force of Izumi and Sasuke crashing through, he's beginning to see some sort of a pattern. They _think_ they're being real sneaky and cute with all their sneaking about, and admittedly to any outsider, it's damned impressive and near unsolvable. But he grew up with these people and he knows them and the way Itachi turned around and did a 360 in letting him go too easily stilted him and his raised eyebrows, as he followed Izumi into the kitchen with Kakashi, who's eyeing him with the sole eye.

He's not throwing a fit and demanding answers now. He'll just have to play along to everything and just, figure it out later. Or bully Itachi and/or Obito into coughing it up. Somebody better not be losing eyesight because Naka alone was too much work, and if he has to touch Danzo one more time he would lose all of his collective shits and marbles.

What he needs to to play normal and dumb too.

“What I'm confused about is,” he whispers to Izumi, while the two of them are cleaning fish scales in the kitchen, Mikoto and Kakashi tending to the pots.

“Don't ask about Kakashi-san,” she whispers right back, slicing off three fins in succession.

“I literally don't know or care about _that,”_ he hisses back. “How come Tobi called the rest of you his babies?”

“He has this idea that he should be the next clan head and run for mayor while he’s at it so it’s just a loop of _The village are my family and anyone who is younger automatically classifies as a baby_ ,” Izumi doesn’t look at the fish as she slices it into ribbons.

“Thank goddess,” he mutters under his breath, “I thought he got new students and decided those brats are his from now on.”

“Oh no, a good half of Rain's orphans are registered in the same family as Obito, along with the current Leaf brats. Unfortunately, that's still a thing,” Izumi nudges him aside and grabs another fish.

“This clan and your big foolish hearts, adopting traumatised children everywhere you go,” he rolls his eyes, fully aware that he is a pot calling similar kettles black. He himself is adopted into the clan and he himself had adopted Kakashi's students when the renowned lazy ass left them to fend for themselves. Kushina and him developed a kinship almost instantly and he's fairly sure that he's an honorary Uzumaki with how much Karin doesn't try to eviscerate him when he pops by her house in Sound whenever he has a chance free from work.

Izumi doesn't deem him worthy enough of an intelligent answer, turning away to rinse the knives.

This amount of habitual ignorance of his nonsense is, well, for lack of a better word, _habitual._ It's so normal that it hurts. He misses this and everything that comes with it.

Which, of course, overlaps _why_ it was unusual for Izumi and indirectly Mikoto to corner him for kitchen duties.

“Has anyone told him people will have to kill Minato and his entire support system to get the mayor's seat or is that lost in translation?”

“You know Tobi,” Izumi nudges him aside, “once he has a harebrained scheme he runs wild with it.”

Shisui remembers, too distinctly, of how _wild_ Obito can get. He would be running around, in the street, yelling. Publicly lobbying for more actions to be taken for criminal rehab. Further investigation for that incident sixteen years ago when that fox hybrid got loose from confinements. He goes wild and doesn’t stay home where he’ll be pacified or tranquilised to sleep. Mikoto barely got him to pay obligatory check-ins as it is, so that she knows he’s not out there doing stupid shit that will get him in jail for the whatever how many times it is that he’s been in there.

Izumi sees the scrunch of his eyebrows and nudges him, trying for reassuring. “His obsession is like a recurring virus. Don't bother too much with it. It'll pass and come.”

She's an immunologist. Of course she would use that analogy.

“I don't understand why he doesn't use his terribly persuasive public speaking skills to raising more awareness on the appalling waste levels of the Nara clan rather than wasting everything on mayor election campaigns, which he will lose,” Shisui mutters as he adds his own fish fillet into the clay pot. Kakashi accepts everything solemnly, with only a slight twinkle in his eye.

Wait.

“Hatake-san,” Shisui drawls, feeling like this question was asked way too many times for it not to be irksome. “Are you not the legal advisor for Namikaze-sama.”

It wasn't a question, because everyone with a negative count of brain cells knows that Kakashi drafted all those regulations and papers and runs them through the council in a particularly ruthless whirlwind that abolished the elder system five years ago.

 “If this is regarding the next mayor election, I've been disqualified from voting,” Kakashi gleefully informs him, taking the pot and setting it on the stove.

“Elections aren't jury eligibility, Kakashi-kun, you can't be disqualified from them,” Mikoto chimes in softly, turning her side of the stove off.

Kakashi shrugs, nonplussed, like he found a legal loophole and he's not inclined to share it in front of one of the very capable County Court justice of Konohagakure.

“Don't risk jail times for Obito-nii,” Shisui's mouth twists, because that's as much as an Uchiha ‘I love you’ as far as dramatic actions can get and he does not need to think about anything pertaining to _that._

Kakashi waves him off.

“Maa, when it get to it, I'll figure it out, Sushi-chan.”

“Please stop calling me that.”

“Then stop calling me by my last name.”

And that had been the close of that particular conversation. 

Shisui and Izumi clean up with vague incredulous expressions on their faces, not until Izumi slaps him on the arm and he's snarling, elbow raised in defence, because he keeps forgetting he's no longer in the presence of Anko who punches him at any chance available.

 _“Mi, stop doing that shit, you know I'm paranoid!”_ He hisses as she bats him away, hand fluttering in front of his nose.

“Kakashi-san-”

“Why are you calling him Kakashi-san -”

“Oh my god, shut up you curly abomination-”  

“I'm so hurt, dumpling, what else could you come up with -”

“Shi,” Izumi puts a placating and warning hand on his forearm.  _Stop being an ass or I will punt you through the kitchen walls._  “Kakashi-san is ready for the possibility of breaking the law for Obito-nii.”

For a while, he's rendered mute because wow, that's love right there, Uchiha brand of convoluted declarations notwithstanding.

“Oh _shit,”_ he realises with a jump, “the Kakashi who had never broken a law before in his life, the very one with _Those who ignore the law are scums_ tattooed on his backside,  _that_ Kakashi?”

Izumi solemnly pulls out her phone and sets a reminder for herself, in a month's time, to ‘look at wedding decorations and venues for Obito’.

“I wonder how Sasuke feels about this whole entire thing?” He wonders.

 

Sasuke is feeling very against and wronged at this development. Probably because Kakashi is his on and off teacher and the thought of Obito, his favourite uncle out of the asshole uncles out there in the vast clan, gallivanting the streets of Konoha and associating with Kakashi, his reportedly _lazy unmotivated dickhead tutor_ , is a very very present tear to Sasuke's dreamland vision.

“Ai dun understand,” he stuffs his mouth with another cherry tomato, “wai ‘im.”

“Can you even fit another one in there?” Naka pokes Sasuke's very pink and very overworked cheeks that are stuffed full with cherry tomatoes.

The baby Uchiha makes some sort of garbled noise that is indecipherable at any human frequency and the participants room that are still interested in the escalation of the game turn to look at Itachi, human translator of all things Sasuke. Him and Naruto both have no problems with understanding Sasuke, but seeing as Naruto is out attending some conferences on wind farms, they only have Itachi.

“What's the record,” Itachi tells them evenly, trying to lean away without having to move his feet from the blanket burrito Shisui and Izumi trapped him in.

He's been trying to sit as humanly apart from the game of Chubby Bunnies, altered to Shove the Tomato because someone ~~Sasuke,~~ went on a bit of a tomato hype and bought at least ten different bags in the fridge and now they have to get rid of the fruits somehow. He has to strike that balance between removing himself physically and mentally from this insane game without breaking skin contact with Shisui's ankles under the blanket. Naori and Izumi gave them twin warning looks when they entered earlier, holding hands and ‘making sakura petals grow from thin air stop that’ so they're on retainer, restrained to only playing footsie under the table and the occasional ‘accidental’ brushes they scatter throughout the evening so that nobody else can call them out on it.

Itachi hates Chubby Bunnies with a cold cold passion, but he hates being apart from Shisui with actual aggression, it's cute but also terrifying, like he's got cocaine withdrawals and if he sees the stuff and isn't allow access to it, then, well.

Someone got hurt once. Shisui does the smart thing and gives out physical affection in small but bearable doses so another withdrawal fit doesn't happen in the near 4km radius. He used up the ‘I’ll just be in the next room catching up with the fam I promise I will actually take 15 minutes I will make it up to you please let me go’ card, so it’s only fair Itachi gets to fill up twelve months’ worth of deprived physical affection in an hour of standard Uchiha ~~humiliating~~ games. He’s trying his best to compensate for what they didn’t get to do, and understandably salty and sulky about the ban on PDA, but Shisui is a weak pushover whenever the women gang up on him and Itachi is a weak pushover when Shisui turns the puppy dog eyes on him - so now everyone’s in an unhappy stalemate and it’s going nowhere as dinner pulls close.

“I think the record was 15?” Naori pulls out her phone. “Izumi got that, I think.”

Sasuke garbles and spits a little, with Naka slapping a paper fan over his mouth and nose and scooting away.

“He said _watch out,_ ” Itachi translates appropriately, directed to Izumi, with none of the teenage spite and agony Sasuke reserves for everyone except for three people ~~Itachi, his mother and Naruto~~. “I assume he also wanted to communicate that he would beat your record.”

Sasuke makes a vague sound of agreement and no doubt profuse affectionate compliments for his brother for understanding him better than anyone in the room, which is to nobody's detriment because kid isn't the best one to have as your burden this side of Konoha.

Naka vaguely counts to 16 and Sasuke slams a victorious fist onto the tatami.

Rin strolls in to get her umbrella and waves jovially at the collection of Uchiha all loosely spread out on the tatami mat, sunshine and smiles to her cold words.

“Still playing the game? I got 23, so make sure you beat my record!”

Kakashi and Obito scramble out from inside the kitchen to ‘let me walk you to the car, Rin!’ as Sasuke collapses in absolute and utter defeat onto the mat, spitting out mashed up bits of tomatoes onto the bucket Naori holds out.

“I lost,” Sasuke tells the ground. “To Nohara-san.”

Naka and Naori pat his back, the gesture completely out of obligation, because nobody want to have another fit of teenage unjustified angst session about the cruel injustices of this world and whatever words about oppression and institutionalisation that Sasuke gets from Itachi through sheer idolatry.

“We should just adopt her into the clan,” Naori tells Shisui over Sasuke’s duck ass haircut.

He considers it. Obito loves her - in a different way now, but would willingly wage a world war to defend her lost honour. Kakashi no doubt will follow suit. Izumi and her work in a nightmarish and efficient team up of immunology and general surgery. She won Naori over when she started revealing her extensive knowledge of nerve points over Mikoto clan’s day out in June last year. She has a spare room that she’s more than welcome to crash in when she ‘feels like visiting’. Itachi buys dango for her, voluntarily. Itachi buys dango for _nobody_ \- Shisui barely got him to buy dango for their dates, under extreme duress. He didn’t have to get on his knees and beg, but Itachi gets weird about his favourite food and at best, Shisui ranks below family and dango on the scale of priorities in Itachi’s heart.

Mikoto embroidered those handkerchiefs that she _only_ gives to members of her clan, long long ago in the back of Shisui’s mind - and he just accepted Rin as an older sister, the only other person who can control Obito on his crazed social justice warrior rants. She’s also the trusted handler ~~and bail person~~ of Konoha’s least favourite man-child vigilante who thinks the law is there for him to decide what is acceptable to follow and what isn’t.

Obito is a public relations officer and a member of the Konoha council. He should know better. He should _do_ better, as a principle of being a lawful citizen of Konoha or any place in the world.

“Isn’t she already an honorary Uchiha though?” Izumi pushes her curtain of hair away from drooping into her eyes, blinking in that slow and slothful way of hers.

“If she isn’t, I’m rioting,” Naka pats Sasuke one last time and leaves him be. Kid’s gone and collapsed on the floor, plastering puffed up baby cheeks onto the tatami mats as Naka and Naori navigate around his lanky self, pulling screen doors aside and letting the summer breeze in.

“Why are we rioting?” Kakashi walks in with Obito’s elbow tightly locked around his own. Every person in the room heroically doesn’t choke or wheeze at this development, partly because Obito is obnoxious about being able to annoy the living daylight out of his loosely related clan members and partly because they’re polite company, damn it, they’re not going to laugh at the man-child for acquiring a dubious love interest. Or whatever _romantic lovey thing_ that is unwrapping in a terrible terrible plot twist in this horror film they absolutely did not sign up for.

Shisui spent a lifetime in a weird tug of war situation with Itachi. He’s all over that dubious love interest field - he’s a  _pro_ in it, but it’s not like it’s hard to realise that essentially a lot of couples are perpetually in the phase that he captions as ‘the real life equivalent of Facebook’s It’s Complicated’. Humans are in that phase, infinitely, because people are complicated and they have feelings and higher brain functions and everything is just a mess.

“How do you feel about adding Rin to the family registry?” Izumi asks for them all, since there’s a silent three-way game of _no you tell him_ between him, Naka and Naori.

“Absolutely not,” Obito rejects right away, just as Mikoto’s “I’d love to have Rin in the family” rings out from the library, glasses perched on her head.

“Baa-san~” the grown ass man, hitting late twenties, turns to whine at Mikoto, hand still wound around Kakashi’s elbow, who looks intent on never letting go, unless someone come at them with a chainsaw turned at max speed. It’s a bit much, and manic, but Itachi gets the same look when people interrupt their afternoon cuddle slash tea time to drag Shisui away, and thenceforth, people just don’t bother him during that hour and a half. It’s safer. People retain limbs and functional eyes when they access Shisui Available Hours that way.

“No objections from you, young man,” she scolds him, like he’s twelve and came home with crickets all over his hair.

“Ew, no, she’ll come over and annoy me all the time,” he whines, swinging Kakashi’s arm back and forth. “All the time. Don’t do this to me, baa-san. _Please.”_

Mikoto chuckles and conveys to him in a gaze that ‘it’s a you problem’ and ‘cry me a river, princess’, and walks away, humming in her wake of destruction.

“Why had the clan head forsaken me?” He wails and doesn’t let anyone near enough to placate him without getting an arm in the eye. Kakashi very carefully detaches himself and toddles over to Izumi and Itachi, squatting to meet their eyes evenly.

“Hello,” he says.

“You're a fool if you think you're not a part of the clan already,” Itachi flips a page and takes the opportunity to sneak a hand on Shisui's back, lightly skimming over the lower end of his spine.

“I won't need to give you the shovel talk, seeing as being with Obito is already enough to shovel anyone for ages,” Izumi folds her lecture notes and doesn't even bother with making eye contact, because the matters have been closed and decided and he's stuck with _that_ now, good luck you sucker.

“Sushi, any comforting words for an old acquaintance?” Kakashi slants a grey eye over to him, clearly pleading for help.

He shrugs helplessly, holding up his linked fingers with Itachi, their respective hands giving no room for even air to pass through, let alone a chance of escape. He can't feel anything below his wrist for a solid five minutes now, so somebody has better bring in a sharp knife, either to pry Itachi off him or cut off his hand because he lost circulation for too long now and that can't be too healthy.

He thinks.

He's an ophthalmologist, not a blood circulation specialist. His opinions on these things are at best educated guesses, but they're not medically proven. Somebody should bring that knife quickly bones are starting to hurt now -

“Welcome to the suffering pit, fellow fool,” Shisui tells him solemnly. “And the family, too.”

“Would you be staying for dinner, captain?” Itachi rises, pulling Shisui with him.

Naka screams out. "Would you like to stay forever, captain?"

Kakashi normally would string up some inane excuses about life with its calling awaiting his imminent appearance and then bails with shocking success because his powers of evasion equate to an actual Olympic sprinter. But not today, not when Obito Uchiha breathes in the same household as him. Obito either is completely unaware of how fucking _sad_ and _pathetic_ he looks as he whips out the Kicked Dog Drooping Eyelids or he's completely aware of how powerful the eyes are as he stares directly into Kakashi's soul and heart and even Sasuke lifts up his head to throw up four fingers, counting down to when Kakashi caves in.

It takes less than four fingers for the white haired legal advisor and whatever else he does to slump down, avoiding all eyes, and tells the ground.

“I'll help set the table.”

“Devastating,” Naka comments, like he's talking about the weather.

Naori twirls a strand of hair around her finger, grin wolfish. "He's staying forever."

“Kakashi has been eating food here for more years than I've been alive, so it's safe to say that he will be making indefinite returns, unless fortune befell him and he learnt how to cook or how to quit being by Obito’s side,” Itachi tugs and Shisui gets up, blanket all knocked loosely onto the tatami mats.

“Please don't phrase it like that,” Sasuke physically cringes, recoiling into himself.

“I like him. He deserves some dango for tea,” Izumi sagely concludes and that had been that, the welcoming of Kakashi into their patchwork clan.

Plus dango is a privilege. An _honour._ The bastard got _dango_  on his induction while Shisui got _taiyaki._ That's basically peasant tier food. He's not important enough, he knows. Everyone’s favourite is just not Shisui in this godforsaken clan.

“Hip hip, hooray?” He surreptitiously tries to wiggle his fingers. They creak back into commission after a while of him just staring at them incredulously and willing the bastards to move after a few seconds of radio silence.

Plus he needs an excuse to gather his thoughts. He hasn't been left alone to even _breathe_ since his arrival home, and he has a nagging hunch that the Uchihas orchestrated it so that he won't be able to piece things together. _Something_ is going on and when he knows it's going to go south very quick and that's terrible for everyone so that's why they have to hide it and keep it all hush hush -

“Shi, we have to set up dinner.” Itachi calls for him.

“Yeah, yeah, comin’!”

 

Shisui feels the thick tension at the table, with Itachi being separated from him without raising any fuss, along with Sasuke being amenable. The brothers are on edge and everyone is on edge, even if Obito's attempts at terrible puns are dished out habitually, at a touch more hysterical on this high-strung night.

Mikoto very heroically doesn't address the elephant in the room that is the sheer animosity of everyone directing their eyes at Itachi and diverts a lot of attention Shisui instead, because he's the clan's scapegoat and everyone's solution out of tricky situations.

“How was the Land of Rain, Shisui-kun?” She smiles, all beautiful and kind and pure and  _please play along and preserve this performance of peace we pretend to have._

He puts down his chopsticks and summons up his best Doctor Consulting Smile, diplomatic and polite and spaced out as fuck.

“They no longer have a blindness crisis, aunt Mikoto,” he says, line pulled completely from his ass.

It's very inappropriate for the dinner table. Naka gestures rudely at him. Sasuke boos. Izumi looks up, consternation clear, because she is polite company and he is destroying that veneer. 

“You went through treatment that fast?” Izumi frowns. “It’s only been a year.”

Okay so maybe she's concerned about medical things, but it's the principle of the thing.

“Year and a bit, but I’ve just mainly been operating nonstop in rural areas where cases that deteriorate to blindness are proportionally higher than in metropolitan areas and the intensive care units take care of the recovery stages. It’s been good, working with everyone in a team effort. I’ll pay them another visit in a couple of months before going to Sand Country -” he slaps away Obito's attempt in stealing his pork piece away with his own chopsticks, audible ‘clack’ interrupting Naori's absurdly cow-like chewing who throws a napkin at his head.

“- so everything should be all good and settled then,” he turns back to Mikoto, as if the minor three-way scuffle across the dinner table didn't happen right before all the pairs of eyes present.

“Good on ya, rice baby,” Obito knocks his spoon out of his hand.

Sasuke, stuck between them, pinches both of their shoulders and digs into his rice with a vindication of someone deeply wronged by the world around him, and Shisui would relate, except that he can't lose to Obito in lame nicknames -

“Thank you, jailbait,” he smiles in return, completely venomous in the stretch of teeth, showcasing how sharp his canines are.

Sasuke sighs like all the injustices of the world had suddenly befall onto his shoulders and keeps them both at arm's length, chewing his pork in between pinching them apart. 

The tension is getting heavier and heavier now. Shisui could cut it and eat it with his rice, but nobody is _talking_ about it because they're a bunch of adopted Uchihas and not talking things out run in their blood once they bear the mantle of the name.

Izumi obnoxiously chews on her beanstalk on the other side of the table. Kakashi makes vague gestures that could mean he's very uncomfortable with the tension at the table and he would love to get out of it, ASAP pronto LOL, but doesn't know how to, not when Izumi and Mikoto flank him on either ends of the table and escape is a guaranteed death if he attempts it.

“I was hoping you would be able to stay in the new private hospital Tsunade-san set up near her old compound so you can assist with the workload instead,” Mikoto casually drops news number one out there. “You won't have to travel as far to find jobs.”

“Okay?” He gulps down his rice. “That is very considerate of you, thank you, Mikoto-san.”

There should be a punchline. When is that arriving and sucker punch him through the screen doors?

“As you know, the mayor election is coming up,” Izumi continues, because this news revealing is apparently a team effort now and multiple people have to partake in it. “Candidates besides Minato-san have been recommended.”

“I am aware?” He blinks, owlishly. He's not quite sure which questions he wants answers to. Preferably none of them.

Tense silence follows. Even Naka had gone characteristically quiet and untalkative, which is a rarity for him and his snide commentary.

Shisui doesn't push. Waits. Taps his ankles to Itachi's under the table.

Sasuke cracks, eventually. Because he's weak and a pushover.

“Nii-chan had been nominated by father to run for mayor.”

 

In the first couple of seconds, he carries on as usual.

Then he balances his chopsticks on the rim of his bowl and evenly tells his clan that this is the type of news they ought to tell him before feeding him food.

Then he stares right at Itachi and smiles, head tipped to the left.

_“Dango, baby, we need to talk.”_

(People briefly wish Itachi luck and minimal pain and suffering in solid pats on his shoulder and flee after the dishes are packed away. Kakashi is finally being able to flee - the guy takes three steps and disappears into the garden with Naori and Naka on his heels while Obito and Sasuke retreat into the kitchen, cleaning ~~and hiding~~. Mikoto and Izumi calmly sit a few stone throws away, talking and working and paying the tumultuous airs he's radiating off by the porch.)

“How long ago was this,” he doesn't look at Itachi. They're making no physical contact - he withdrew and insisted on the distance, because he won't be able to think rationally when he's in close proximity with Itachi and all that opening for his fists to _strike a nerve._ Knowing Itachi, he would let him.

All the more reasons for them to not make physical contact. 

“At least six weeks now. The clan elders insisted, and father pushed,” Itachi miserably relays to him.

“Will you run for office, Itachi?”

The question isn't a part of any word he dishes out. It's perhaps a little cruel, to string Itachi on a trail of ambiguous clues on what exactly is he mad about, but this is news that is long overdue and completely inappropriate to announce over family reunion dinner. He's absolutely _livid_ and he's going to stew for a good hour before anything or anyone can talk him out of it.

“If it is what the clan dictate -”

“Your clan,” Shisui interrupts, “is here.”

Itachi closes his mouth with an audible click.

“I see that you still do not consider us as yours as we consider you ours,” he sounds out the words, crushes syllables between his molars, tastes the bitterness that they emanate. “As you are wont to do.”

“Sui, that's not quite how -”

“Will you do everything _the clan_ dictates and sets out for you, Itachi, blindly following and putting away your freedom to choose, every single time your father calls it so?”

Itachi doesn't answer. Shisui doesn't see a need to continue talking to him.

“I'll be taking my leave,” he announces, rising.

Itachi knows to let him go.

“Thank you for the warm dinner, Mikoto-san. Have a lovely night, Izumi-chan.”

When the rest of the cowardly males crawl forth from their respective hiding places, with Naori towing Kakashi and Naka back after lecturing them, he is long gone.

 

"So," Naka hedges. "No dango and tea?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Nana," Obito breezily passes by, helping Naori with the low table. "You could kill a person and we'll expect you return to have tea and dango with us. Sit down. Eat a rice stick. Shut up."

Mikoto effortlessly brews the green tea while scanning her court documents, only relinquishing the grip on the handle when Izumi gently prises her hand away. Izumi doesn't look at how much she's pouring per Uchiha, just pours and hands the cups to everyone present, lip curling at Naka burning his tongue when he's gulping down boiling water because he choked on a piece of dango. Naori chews absently, watching over Sasuke and Itachi, both slumping on the decking like a pair of miserable, wing-clipped pigeons. 

"Will they," he gestures vaguely, "be alright?"

Obito assesses everything and shrugs, waving a dango stick in each hand before the brothers' noses. Itachi, heartbroken, but still intact with his priorities, accepts one. Sasuke, due to sheer solidarity, didn't accept one unless his brother does, makes grabby hands at his uncle and bites on the bamboo stick when he sets out on destroying the dessert he's been given.

"Yeah they're all fine now," he leans back to Naka.

"Really," the man drawls, "you don't say."

"Don't be mean, Nana-kun," Mikoto admonishes softly.

Obito mouths back.  _Yeah, don't be mean, Nana-chan._

"Obito."

"Sorry auntie."

Naori looks over at Kakashi, a six foot something man trying to make himself as small as possible on the cramped veranda, flinching mildly when her eyes caught him out on his sneakery. 

"So cap, you staying forever from now on, yeah?"

Kakashi and Obito both make some silly excuses about having work this and work that and mutually bail, with Naori and Naka laughing at their fleeing backs.

"Itachi," Mikoto flips a page, "leave Shisui to me."

Itachi doesn't move or respond to his mother's words.

"Itachi," Izumi sips her tea, "go deal with your father."

"Itachi," Naka squats by his right, "you're a dumbass, with a spine of glass."

"Itachi," Naori punches him aside, "take that as an 'I love you' despite your shortcomings."

"Itachi nii-san," Sasuke chimes in, "we're your clan. We would love you, no matter what."

"And Shisui would too, river throwing incident or not," Izumi gently reminds him. 

That got a reaction out of Itachi - pure and unadulterated horror - that river haunts him till this very day and he cannot stop blaming himself for it - and four hands offer him dango sticks, all chewing obnoxiously.

"Eat," Naori orders.

"Then do stuff," Naka shrugs. "Whatever it is you need to do."

Itachi opens his mouth, probably to apologise. 

"Yeah, we don't need to hear it. Just eat and go away. Come on, quick," Naori pushes the dango and it smooshes onto his cheek. "I don't have all day, 'Tachi. Hurry up."

He got the last words anyway - "Thank you, everyone."

"Ew," Izumi laughs.

"I know," Naka nods solemnly.

"I love you too, nii-chan, but you need to leave," Sasuke points out.

 

He wakes with a rapping on his window frame.

There's a pillow that he armed himself with when he creaks open his front door. On the way there he tripped over at least three soccer balls and a tennis racket. He barely lives in this place any more and his siblings mainly use it as a storage space whenever they crash by on weekends or after club - to the point that he doesn't know where anything is where anymore.  

Mikoto and Kushina are at the door, mutually brandishing their beatifically homicidal smiles and he invites them in because he wants to live past 9 o'clock, trudging to the kitchen to offer them tea that he's yet to brew.

Kushina takes half a second to assess his ability to stay on his feet and pushed him to sit on a chair, standing up to boil some water and leaning against the kitchen bench, uncharacteristically quiet.

“I don't know why both of you have to come,” he points out after his second cup of aggressive green tea sipping. “And more importantly, why _he_ can't come here and explain everything.”

“Sushi, last time Itachi tried that, you kinda threw yourself into a river and scary old man Senju ended up fishing you out two towns over,” the women drily remind him.

“Irrelevant,” he flutters a hand.

“I think you meant _fucking terrifying,”_ Kushina, bless her soul, speaks for the collective sane people of Konohogakure and as Mikoto's personal anger translator. Sasuke is her understudy.

“The point is that I came around,” he insists.

“Yes, with twenty stitches across your skull and slight amnesia,” Kushina lifts a brow, voice bland as white bread. “Snack, I don't know which Uchiha alleyway logic you're walking in that brain of yours, but we're here because we're the best tag team in preventing wide scale meltdowns, so how about you sit there and talk about your feelings while I bring you another blanket.”

He's sure that the reason she's not a barrister is because she's too passionate about the preservation of ancient Uzushio scripts to care much about legal debates. That and she lives vicariously through Mikoto anyways - it all balances out in that little partnership arrangement they have going on.

“I don't want to talk about my feelings,” he grouches, slumping into a kitchen chair. “They give me indigestion.”

“Sounds terribly common. Suck it up and get them out then,” the Uzumaki matriarch pats him on the shoulder and braves through the house full of paraphernalia from having two teenagers rampaging through, tracking out the emotional support blanket needed for this very confrontation.

Shisui is stuck with Mikoto, the similarly Uchiha matriarch, with Fugaku as the main clan's leader, because the main branch people are males and chauvinistic and gross and they won't accept the fact that she's successful and separated from that man and it's been years and none of them from the kicked out club have stopped screaming about it.

Mikoto deserves so much better than this. It sucks that she doesn't have all the nice things happening to her.  
Shisui is almost brought to his senses when his...pretty much _aunt_ in all her years of guidance and firm raising of him over the years, lies her left hand on top of his crossed hands on the table and tells him it's alright to feel angry over the escalating events.

“You're not reacting in anyway that's unreasonable or unforgivable,” she reminds him.

That must be a dig since last time. Last time he had a meltdown with Itachi he took off sprinting to the clan's river and threw himself in it after telling Itachi to _make your clan_ **_proud_ ** _then Itachi_ and ended up almost dead if the old mayor Tobirama didn't happen upon him on a fishing trip two days after.

Tobirama told him he was an idiot despite being a medical intern while performing very intricate first aid procedures on his bleeding head. There was a bit of a mixed message being sent across, and in his defence, he was bleeding and slightly concussed. He was handed off to Rin at the hospital and a firm word from the, and he quote, verbatim via Kagami, _scariest but prettiest Senju alive,_ that he shouldn't throw himself into the nearest body of water and should practice talking about his issues instead, so that the city wouldn't go into wide scale meltdown over his disappearance and presumed death every time he has Issues™.

(The entire Uchiha clan have problems with liking normal people. They have to go out there and pick the scariest ones to trip over their feet and break their faces on the ground for. He can't judge Kagami because Tobirama sort of abolished institutionalised discrimination based on unfounded stigma on certain clans ~~his own~~ and honestly, if his head was a little more done in and he lived around the same time as Tobirama's prime, _same.)_

But his statement was so unneeded. He knows he overreacted. He knows he overreacts on principle of who he is. He can't devote time to changing his nature. There are more important matters to be learnt. If he has to risk a few near death experiences to get things where they needed to be by overreacting then there is no need for him to change the way he acts.

Mikoto doesn't say anything, just nods and nods.

That's basically a green light for him to just rant on and on and on -

She patiently waits him out, her silent and minimally non-judgemental demeanour drawing out and exhausting his well of complaints about _stupid Itachi and his stupid responsibility for his toxic clan_ _and I just want him to be happy why can't we have nice things._

“Heya,” Kushina emerges from the Demons’ Den, with a quilt blanket, “I come with the emotional support blanket, now continue your rant.”

Shisui isn't aware of what exactly is he even ranting about anymore, but he had said the name Itachi in an iteration of a swear word, a taboo term, an adjective synonymous with _dumbass,_ the verb of being a moron, and many more linguistic breaking sins that he has committed, but this is all a verbal conversation and no one can call him out on it.

“I just am so angry,” he repeats, feeling like a broken record.

Kushina pats him in sympathy, another hand jerked up to check the time. She drops her wrist with the watch down, pulling on the curls at the base of his skull.

“Ow,” he reacts, not out of pain, but of surprise. “Why.”

“I need you to wrap this all up so us two can head to work and drop you off at the Immigration department on our way to our offices,” she shrugs, kicking back her chair. “You got all your feelings out, now we need to make the resolution quick or they will return. Ya catching my drift, ‘ttebane?”

 _No._ “Kinda,” his mouth says. You know, like a liar.

Kushina lifts a perfectly sculpted brow.

“Okay, not really, but I'm getting the vibe that this will solve some issues.”

“I knew you got into med school with some semblance of a brain in there somewhere, snack,” she pats his cheek. “Shower. We'll feed you on route to work.”

Mikoto firmly steers him to the bathroom and shoves him inside, leaving no room for objection as he is shut behind the doors. There are like, towels and clothes thrown at him as he puts things on and makes himself decent and before he can breathe, he's inside Mikoto's very nice Peugeot and he's holding a plate of inarizaki.

“Uh,” he's sure this has got some form of magic involved in it because, pardon his language, what the actual _fuck_ happened?

“Chew then swallow,” Mikoto instructs and reverses out of his apartment block.

He puts the roll of food inside his mouth and chews.

Obito is at the front door, all decked out in a very expensive suit, probably starving dry his councilman’s salary, with whatever sordid weapons trade he does that people ignore is a thing. He gesticulates wildly when Mikoto pulls into one of the reserved parking spot, cupping his hands around his mouth and yelling gibberish that is comprehensible to her and her only.

How did she even get saddled with the stupidest and weirdest coconut heads this side of the Fire Country? Poor _poor_ Mikoto. She deserves a rest and a holiday. Away from them. Forever.

Kushina flies out of the front seat, waving cheerily to Mikoto and throwing his door open, pulling him out like he weighs at most one (1) bunch of grapes.

“Bye bye darling!” She winks to Mikoto who accepts her excessive cheek kisses with bravado and who also valiantly endures Obito's hug tackle for a solid minute, smiling all fondly as the two of them bully Shisui inside, marching him to the mayor's chamber.

 _Save me,_ his eyes beg.

 _Have fun!_ Mikoto waves and gets in her car, igniting the engines and reversing away.

“To pretty boy!” Kushina declares, strong arming him with really formidable bicep strength while Obito cheers in tandem next to her.

“Minato-sensei!” He cheers, in the same vein of excitement as her.

“But wh-” Shisui doesn't have time to react because he's thrown in a private elevator and it shoots to the top floor, dinging and spitting them all out, him stumbling and pulled along to the oak doors of Minato’s office.

They swing open to reveal Fugaku and Itachi standing inside with Danzo the elder and ex elder parliamentary committee member, all turning and raising eyebrows at their rambunctious entrance.

“Delivery!” Kushina triumphantly announces and throws Shisui inside with the force of anger at female's oppression and the strength of her doing bicep curls at the gym.

Shisui sees Itachi and swings immediately into Overreacting Drive. He spins and twists his arms, running right at the closed doors and hits his chin smack bang into Obito's forehead.

 

Minato spends five minutes icing Obito's forehead, with an apologetic smile to all parties present. Nobody really expected any injuries when they visit the mayor, but then they should have expected Kushina's unannounced visits given that she comes as a package deal with Minato.

“This,” Fugaku clears his throat, hands in his kimono, “was unprecedented.”

 _Unprecedented_ being the understatement of the year. It's up there with Shisui throwing himself in the river to avoid his problems and splitting his head on some rocks to forget he has Issues™.

“Really,” Kushina’s voice could evaporate nail polish with how _dry_ it is. ”You don't _say_.”

“Kushina-san,” he groans, from under his wet towel of infused herbal tea. “Please stop. My neck is dying. My brain cells are dying.”

“Snack, you don't even _have_ brain cells,” she ruefully reminds him.

Minato is the only person who's kind and offended enough to let out a small gasp. Itachi was too busy pretending like he has no emotions and stoically remaining by his father's side, eyes downcast.

“I'm only here to bring the truth, hubby,” Kushina ruthlessly argues, eyes wide. “He needs to face the harsh reality. That's how you prepare them for the real world.”

Minato opens his mouth to object, because that's borderline on harassment, but it's a delicate situation, so he doesn't.

“Well, your honourable, we apologise for interrupting your administrations,” Danzo slants a look that can't be too friendly to Obito who blows a friendly raspberry his way, winking with an eye. “But the candidacy paperworks must be finalised today.”

“How odd,” Fugaku frowns, “I thought they were due in a week.”

“Preliminary must be taken care of before we submit candidate names, Uchiha-sama,” Danzo bows.

There was nothing respectful in that bow. Even Shisui, with his nearly broken neck, could tell. And he doesn't even have his glasses on. That's how _obvious_ it was.

“Well I suppose I could finalise the preliminary paperworks today, after Obito is back on his feet. I apologise, Danzo-san, the office is a mess of election preparations at the moment. I humbly ask for your understanding, cooperation and patience,” Minato inclines his head in a mild bow, with his hands still busy icing Obito's swollen forehead.

Kakashi is going to throw Shisui down a waterfall when he finds out how his sort-of fiance is hurt. That and electrocute him before anyone can be pushed down into any water.

“Of course, Namikaze-sama,” Danzo bows again.

Minato maintains a diplomatic, world leader peace smile, because he can't throw Danzo out the fifth floor window without the bureaucracy raining paperwork hell onto his head and because it goes against his moral compass. He's pure at heart and precious like that.

“And of course, we are here to register a candidate for the running of the mayor position,” Fugaku nudges Danzo aside with a sweep of his kimono, the two of them not making contact with one another. Danzo cringes with considerable contempt when he is in near proximity with an Uchiha because he's allergic to the name and Fugaku holds a deep hatred for the man who nearly stripped them of citizenship and human rights due to his excessive advocacy of their supposed and suspected treason. The courts ran for months when that entire shitstorm swept through Konoha. Shisui threw himself into a river. Itachi was going to testify against his clan. It was the Shitstorm-est to ever shitstorm.

“We welcome all new faces here,” Minato smiles, wide and hopeful and pleasant.

“My heir will be in the running,” Fugaku crosses his arms and nods, mouth pressed on his usual stoic line, eyebrows creased. That same look made countless of Uchiha kids cried as far as Fugaku's reign extended in time and Shisui, though visibly agitated, didn't want to interfere. He _cried_ too and he's not tripping over himself to recreate that experience. Fugaku doesn't shout - no true, manly and emotionally constipated Uchiha raise his voice, because they're all closeted Victorian ladies in and out of public’s scrutiny. Oh no, my good sir, they just speak evenly and alter the pitch of their voices to beat the tears out of people's eyes.

“Is that so, Itachi-san?” Minato raises an eyebrow. Obito holds his sensei in place, eye closed.

Fugaku opens his mouth to scoff - “Of course” as Itachi bows.

“I will be withdrawing my name from the running.”

Fugaku nearly draws a weapon, which is all metaphorical, he hopes, but he himself has sewing needles in his jacket pocket so maybe he can't speak. Uchihas all arm themselves with some sort of injurious-inducing tools on their bodies in emergencies that require improvised weapons. Or, just, when they're feeling defensive and there's a pointy thing in their hand that they can stab people with. In self-defence, they would claim. Nobody ever got thrown in jail the cases where blood spilt so it must've worked, _somehow._ That's more a possibility in this situation, the hidden knife and intentional heir shanking.

 _“You want to what,”_ Danzo repeats, voice entirely shrill. Poor him - he must've walked all the way from Paranoid Hill to object to an Uchiha daring to think about running for mayor. How dare Itachi do all his work for him. This disrespect. This is why all Uchihas are the degenerates of society.

“And you have decided this,” Fugaku drawls, “without first consulting with the family.”

That's the tone that makes even adults cry. He's seen Yamato at the mercy of that tone and the guy refused to step foot into any 3km radius of the Uchiha compound. He turns the other way in a dead sprint when his Fugaku Senses go _bing bing._ It's deadly.

Which is sort of funny given the composition of people in the room because he's pretty sure they are all the adults that make _other_ adults cry. Or maybe that's just Kushina.

“I wasn't aware my potential election campaign would require the input of the clan,” Itachi drolly replies.

Oh?

_Oh?_

“We arrived at your candidacy as a collective, therefore we ought to discuss your withdrawal as a collective,” Fugaku opens his eyes and _frowns_.

“I just find it amusing,” _oof,_ “how you use the term ‘we’ but essentially intended _the clan, the elders, the sewing needdles, the ponds with the grass, and oh,_ **_not_ ** _Itachi._ ”

Kushina and Obito have banded together on the floor, squatting and watching intently. Minato has a knee drawn up, eyes assessing the situation, but mostly doesn't interfere.

There is no pain now. Everybody is invested on the ensuing drama.

Shisui has an inkling he might have triggered a chain of butterfly effect-esque events that is well on its way to blowing up in a lot of faces and drag out the good half of the council and the city.

They ought to have this discussion elsewhere, like the privacy of their own home, Fugaku and Itachi, instead of having a pissing match in the mayor's nicely furnished office because well, Itachi carries a butter knife on hand and he gets stabby when upset.

“Gentlemen -” he tries.

Fugaku slants a disapproving look his way, as if _he_ just refused to run for mayor and killed his entire clan's future all in one fell swoop.

To be fair, he _was_ a catalyst, arguably _the_ catalyst, of things going to hell in a hand basket. He would blame himself too, but in his defence he wasn't even aware of the candidacy or Itachi's participation. He was just angry he wasn't told about that decision and how his boyfriend was essentially a mouthpiece in which his clan project their ambitions onto. Failure or success, Itachi bears the burden of the Uchiha's name. It makes Shisui's blood boils over and his entire countenance livid. Damn. Is anyone allowed a life outside of Uchiha this, Uchiha that?

“I would prefer it if you leave anyone who wasn't a part of our discussion, out of our discussion,” Itachi looks up at last, eyes holding a new determination and steel that's basically an entirely new concept for anyone who didn't know about his bar exam. Because _phew,_ the associate judges filed their resignation from active court duties to be conflict mediators because Itachi was _that_ brutal.

Fugaku opens his mouth to dish out another bout of tears-inducing words. Shisui readies himself and his tear ducts. Obito can be heard swearing softly under his breath. Minato has an arm around his wife and student both, eyes trained half on Shisui and Danzo who are both immobilised stiff under the turn of events.

But bless Itachi. He seizes the opening and starts this marvellous rant at the Uchiha clan leader, which, admittedly, isn't a lot of words to begin with, on grounds of him being an Uchiha, but it's an act of defiance from Itachi, pushover of the decade. Minato ranks a close second next to this brat. Itachi and rebellion don't exist in the same world, let alone in the presence of his father whose words he carries through without a grain of doubt. This is 100% the causation of the River Throwing incident and why Shisui stormed out the other night. Itachi is a breathing, living human being, with minimal will of his own, except seeing Sasuke grow up healthy or some shit. It infuriates him to no end, and he's not entirely sure why _now_ Itachi decides to have his very delayed rebellious age.

“Father, sometimes I really do wonder if you see me as your son, or, if I shall venture, a person. You designate responsibilities to me with the expectation that I will fulfil them without a second’s doubt, yet you have never once questioned if I want those responsibilities or not. Have you ever considered my input in the issue of the candidacy, before discussing that with the clan? You cannot have an earnest or fruitful candidacy with a dishonest campaigner. I apologise, father, for I feared your wrath and the clan's, but truly, I wish for no part in this. I am content where I am. You should practice that too, being content. Sometimes I wonder if you are satisfied and thus you project your worries onto my shoulder. Have you ever lived by your own accords, father, or have you always been living in the shadows and through me as your proxy?”

Imagine this: you're walking into the local mayor's office to terrorise him and the goddamn Uchiha clan and then getting caught in a spat between the heir and leader of the very clan you're complaining against. The kid even psychoanalysed the hell out of his father while a bunch of adults clump around and watch everything like a rerun of their favourite family drama soap opera.

As for Shisui, well. He had never been prouder and scared for the love of his life, the light to his moth, the idiot he calls his boyfriend.

Fugaku's lashing out are few and in between but when he gets into a punitive mood, he acts like a textbook description of what a tyrant does. He burnt Mikoto's law textbooks when he found out she was studying to be a lawyer, hid the car and all modes of transportation so that Sasuke couldn't leave the house to go to that high school internship in Sound. He struck Naka and Shisui no less than three times when they spoke when he did at clan's meetings. Izumi’s hair was cut short because of, well, _Fugaku_. He threatened to disown Sasuke so that Itachi would take up clan's leadership. It goes on and on and on.

Hopefully he won't pull any tyrannical shit in the presence of goodness and lawful reinforcement, Namikaze Minato.

Hopefully. Kushina might have to tackle him out the window on this one.

“What did you say to me, Uchiha Itachi?” He asks, deathly silent, eyes meeting Itachi.

“I'm removing myself as a mayor's candidate and from the family's registry. I've been under the same koseki as everyone else who have been exiled from the clan over the years. From this point onward, we are only related through blood, father,” Itachi evenly informs his father.

All eyes skip to Fugaku, partly to gauge a reaction and spring to crisis intervention if needed, and just to watch how he would react at his most loyal kin leaving him.

That must be such a hard-hitting blow. The ultimate betrayal.

“How…” the patriarch whispers, eyes the widest anyone had seen him get. “You did not discuss this with me.”

“Would you have let me go?” Itachi’s eyes are heavy with sorrow.

Fugaku doesn't reply. Itachi waits.

 _“Can they get it wrapped up before 1? I have a meeting,”_ Obito whispers in the dead silence of the chamber.

Kushina punches him in the arm and tells him with the force of her eyes that she will make sure he has one kidney less if he keeps on interrupting the drama™.

“Interesting as everything is,” Danzo starts to speak -

And promptly gets escorted out by Minato who begins a spiel on policies of crisis relief in rural regions at the border of the city.

“Itachi,” Fugaku closes his eyes, letting his arms fall from his sleeves. “Return to the clan with me.”

“You need time to process everything. I will return once you have time by yourself to come to understand the events,” Itachi bows. “Until next time, father. Keep well.”

Obito springs up and escorts his former patriarch out of the room, flashing frantic signs that Shisui should take care of Itachi. He numbly walks over, a foot in front of another, still positively reeling from how fast things escalated. Kushina is still with them, partly because she worries Shisui might throw himself out the window next. Heck, he's considering that option. Why are things happening. Who is he. What are words.

“Birdie,” Itachi smiles at him, eyes a painting of Greek tragedy, a childhood nickname on his tongue. Whatever he is parading, it is a pathetic imitation of a smile. His lips look like they've forgot the concept or mechanics of a smile and he's just improvising off the splinters from his memory.

Shisui forgets to be angry within half a second of looking into that sad sad smile.

“Gee, Amaterasu's fires, _dango,_ come here. Just, just _come._ Come on, we'll walk,” he lifts an arm and Itachi tucks himself in, trying to crawl under his skin. He wants to covet this poor soul who's been continually stripped of free will over two decades and takes him far away, just the two of them. They'll make it work. They had and they are and they sure as hell will.

“Here, turn left, right inside. Stay as long as you want. Minnie doesn't use this room as often so Naru always crashes here. In, don't have a breakdown in the hallway. Drag him, snack,” Kushina ushers them in and closes the door.

Shisui begins to panic, but it's a quickly debilitating thought as the doors swing open, Kushina's shrill _don't pull stupid shit like jumping out a window no ex mayors are around to CPR you back into life just stay put_ \- and she's right. His worries are all unnecessary rubbish regurgitated by his head. He should just be himself and be by Itachi's side, in the ways that he can.

“Mon petit chou,” he waddles to the other, “the loveliest baguette to ever bread.”

Itachi loses it at the baguette.

“That makes no sense,” his eyes crinkle, “you're just calling me by food names.”

“I have no idea what I am doing, ever,” he confesses. “My entire medical career is a lie and I have duped everyone brilliantly with my nonsense.”

“Don't say that,” Itachi shakes his head, reaching out a calloused palm. Shisui leans his cheek onto it, closing his eyes. “You're the brilliant eye doctor -”

“Ophthalmologist,” he corrects.

“ - and I'm the ruthless foreign relations officer. Together we can conquer the world.”

Shisui mumbles some sort of an agreement into Itachi's palm. It sounds really good, the conquering the world part.

“I have never,” he admits, “for once, considered you ruthless. You are too kind for that terminology. You're just scarily efficient, and sometimes people conflate that with having no heart. But you have the biggest heart in this entire goddamn country and everyone sucks except for you so whatever you do I'm behind it 1000%. So, just - don't beat yourself over what happened. You went through all of that for over twenty years and sometimes you need to be yourself. You're not unkind for leaving him and the family. You're unkind to yourself and those who love you if you had stayed and got dragged in their stupid schemes even more. Candidacy. International terrorism. Heists. Who knows where the boundaries of the clan lie?”

Itachi doesn't reply straight away, but Shisui had learnt to read answers in the silence that stretches in their conversation. It's an exhalation of relief, Itachi's shoulders shaking with releasing the rattling air from inside him, emptying himself of the worry he carries from however long years.

“I just,” Itachi sighs, “don't want to hurt anybody.”

“I know you don't, sweet bread of mine -”

“I'm actually going to ban you from making nicknames from now on -”

“It had lots of personality, okay? But continue, keep talking about your feelings, I love the part where we don't repress our _id_ and then go on a murdering rampage -”

“Shisui,” Itachi stops him, “sorry I made you worry and mad and -”

“I'm going to stop you there and offer you a hug,” Shisui steps away. “May I?”

Itachi goes in for the hug.

 

(“Kakashi is going to be an Uchiha in a month,” Itachi offhandedly mentions as he rifles through twenty thousand stacks of papers on his desk.

“Why in a month?” Shisui wonders behind his own personal stack of paper.

“Wedding and officiating take a month to finalise.”

“Oh,” he hums. 

“Wait _**what?”)**_

**Author's Note:**

> I'm crying I kept making daily Twitter updates for the duration that I wrote this I'm sorry to everyone I've annoyed
> 
> also can someone be my naruto mutual i need more friends on [twitter](https://twitter.com/tacobell_com) and [curious cat](https://curiouscat.me/jenny_benny)


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